


simple needs

by gudetama (elementary)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Original Percival Graves, Fluff and Smut, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Top Theseus Scamander, fanon!Theseus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 07:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementary/pseuds/gudetama
Summary: they don't get to have this often but when they do, they don't hold back





	simple needs

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by some other sexy thing I forgot where lol have some fluffy smutty Thesival goodness

It’s as Percival pushes a second finger inside himself to twist alongside the first that there is suddenly too much clarity about his situation. There’s more awareness about his position, his actions than he is currently equipped to deal with, and it makes him still. A hand, large and rough with calluses slips from his knee to the inside of his thigh, has his breath hitching from his own sensitivity in that area.

“Something the matter?” Theseus rumbles, low and husky, so, so sweet; he strokes at the skin there. “You’ve stopped.”

Percival swallows, can’t close his spread thighs even if he wanted to due to the strong grip on each. His face burns and his cock and stomach quiver, the bedsheets scratchy and warm at his back, hair sticking with perspiration to his forehead. Theseus has one of Percival's legs captive in each arm standing at the edge of the bed and looms over him, looking as if he wants to devour Percival whole. From this point of view, he appears even larger than his already significantly large form and a proportionate cock juts from between sharply-cut hips; he wonders how that thing fits in him every time.

Merlin, Percival is caught well and good.

“Go on,” the man encourages. “You’re almost ready, aren’t you?” Suddenly, a hand covers Percival's and gives a slight push, pushes his fingers deeper, and he’ll deny forever the utterly embarrassing noise that emits from his throat. “Show me, Perce; show me how much you want it, me inside you, because you wanted this.”

The tip of a finger not his own slips in next to the others and Percival nearly comes right then and there. _Fuck_. Arousal is a powerful haze over his mind and even as shameful as he might find his own behaviour, it only adds to it. Because it's true, because it’s Theseus. Because they haven’t seen each other in a while and he had looked so handsome striding confidently into Percival's office—a complete surprise, the bastard—said, “Hello, Percival,” like his name was something precious with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

And Percival had fallen in love all over again.

“Not here,” Percival had said weakly when the man reached for him over the desk and kissed his fingers against Percival's mouth.

But _here_ —in the privacy of the bedroom and intimacy of their desires—Percival wants to be fucked like he’s someone's possession and Theseus wants him to show it, prepare himself to take it.

His fingers have started moving again on their own and Theseus takes his hand elsewhere much to his disappointment, to the base of Percival's cock, a light scratch up the side to pinch a hard nipple.

“Thes,” Percival gasps.

Theseus hums in response then licks up Percival's leg, makes it twitch helplessly. “Keep going; I think you can add a third.”

Somehow, Theseus knowing exactly when he’s ready for more drives him a bit crazy.

A third is pressed inside and the stretch of it stings in a good way. Theseus pulls abruptly and he yelps, and just as he’s slipping off the bed he’s lifted up, up, bent at the waist and ass resting against Theseus's stomach. It's a little uncomfortable, back and shoulders taking more weight and blood flowing upside down, but his lover stares down where he’s opening up slowly but surely with dark eyes and a slow lick of the lips.

“Hurry, I can’t wait much longer,” Theseus rasps, and it’s then that Percival feels something hard and wet poking at his spine just above the ass.

Their eyes meet and it’s almost too much again.

“Okay,” Percival says, moans. “Okay.”

Percival works his fingers, in and out, wider and wider to the point that they ache along with his wrist, squelching sounds of lubricant gel being pushed out and dripping down the crack of his ass. His skin prickles with the heat that burns just underneath, and a constant tug in his gut tries to take him higher—

“Theseus,” Percival calls, his voice shaking, “I need—I need one more, please. I can’t. It’s not going to fit. You’re too big—”

“Fuck,” Theseus breathes. “Fuck, alright.”

And then a thick digit tangles with Percival's and reaches even deeper, aims directly for a particularly sensitive spot. Percival sobs and jerks.

“So soft and wet, such a pretty pink,” Thesues murmurs, stroking relentlessly even as his other hand starts rubbing over the head of Percival's cock, has him crying out. “I could keep touching you like this. How would you like that?”

Percival manages to shake his head in negative, overwhelmed as he is. “Fuck me, now. You said—”

Theseus smiles teasingly and gives one last hard stroke before dragging Percival's hand out along with his. The loss is palpable and it’s all he can do not to whine. When he’s slowly let down on the bed again, he feels the toll of having been in that position a while and of course, Theseus notices. With an apologetic face, he pushes Percival up into the centre and rolls him over, then rubs firmly into the muscles at his back as he kisses along Percival’s nape.

“I’m fine,” Percival huffs, hips twitching against the sheets in dissatisfaction.

“You’re going to need it,” Theseus says. “I’m not letting you out of this bed for a good long while,” and he bites down a little harder.

With that, Theseus finally lays himself over him and rolls his erection languidly against Percival’s bottom. The hands slip under him and presses his back to Theseus’s chest, roll both his nipples between deft fingers while there are teeth at his ears nipping before that hot mouth slides wetly down the side of his neck. Percival arches into every touch with a breathy whine and relishes in the feeling of protection and warmth that comes from being fully enveloped by the other. Twisting his head, he wordlessly asks for a kiss and Theseus swallows his long moan as the man finally, _finally_  pushes in.

The thick cock splits him so wide and it’s almost painful as if all that preparation didn’t happen; it presses in and in to fill every space, not giving him a single moment’s reprieve until it’s sheathed completely inside him. Percival chokes on a breath and trembles at the sheer amount of heat and hardness that applies relentless pressure against his inner walls.

Theseus breaks the kiss and curses. He holds him still, holds their hips together and grounds him until he adjusts.

“It really has been too long,” Theseus laughs against his shoulder. “You’re so tight, I don’t know if I can move.”

“That’s not an option, Scamander,” Percival bites out and clenches experimentally, making them both groan.

“Stop that,” Theseus scolds and lifts himself up, arms on either side of Percival’s head. “Alright, then.”

It’s both better and worse when Theseus starts moving—a short, hard thrust in followed by a slow drag on the way out. The friction between his bare cock and Percival’s sensitive insides sends mixed signals of _good_  and _hurts_  and _too much_  yet at the same time, he wants _more_. Theseus is a solid weight inside and over him and it reaches deep in many ways. Each sigh and grunt from the man as he connects the two of them with increasingly hard fucks only serves to heighten Percival's pleasure, and it allows him to cry out freely in response.

Theseus’s arms hook under his and grasp his shoulders, and he pulls him into the next few powerful thrusts.

“Fuck,” Percival whines. “Thes—”

“Merlin, you feel absolutely amazing,” Theseus pants from above.

He shoves in right to the hilt and stills, lets go of Percival and rises. A hand at Percival's back keeps him down and before he can question why the man stopped, a deep grind has him losing the words on his tongue. Then starts deliberate rolls of the hip, each a frighteningly accurate aim for the spot that send shivers down his spine. The sheets twisted up in his fingers just might tear, Percival thinks deliriously, incoherent noises spilling from him into the bed.

“Can you come like this?” he thinks he hears, and struggles to focus as Theseus continues. “We've done it before, could try again; you’re sensitive enough.”

Maybe, maybe, Percival might have said, but he is lacking that patience right now for long periods of careful, purposeful ministrations in the right places to carry him over to climax while untouched. He needs, he wants—

Theseus slips out altogether and Percival cries out in confusion; it's empty, so hollow where the man had carved out a place for himself within, but then he’s being flipped over and Theseus is there between his legs, kissing him hard. Large hands cup his cheeks and there's a tongue in his mouth and Percival swears the man wants to suck his soul through this kiss.

(And he just might give it, one day.)

It's all hunger and wet heat, then teeth set to his throat and Percival wants to be touched, his cock bobbing up and brushing teasingly against the body atop his, _why did he stop_ —

Theseus re-enters him in a single, long thrust and Percival’s tearing away from another kiss with a sob. His wrists are caught and pinned next to his head, and his body shakes helplessly with the force of sudden raw fucking. That's what this is now, Theseus almost feral in the way he pounds into Percival's ass and giving him no choice but to take it, the slapping of skin loud in the room and everything messing him up inside. It's good, so good the way it makes him want to scream—

“Let me hear you,” Theseus pretty much growls, and as if to make him obey, he thrusts hard into Percival's prostate.

There's electricity, sparks shooting up his spine and spreading throughout his skin, and a sound bursts from his mouth that might just be a scream. His ass is going to break; he thinks it every time but it's no less true. This beast of a man, who hungers for him and takes and takes and takes, ruins him, will always ruin him. Percival can hardly catch a breath as is and yet Theseus deigns to take that, too, pushing up and bending him to lean over, slotting his mouth over Percival's and probing deep like his cock.

It does get to be a bit much eventually, feels like they’ve been fucking for quite a while, and Percival is soon on the brink.

“Thes, let me—” a particularly rough shove cuts off his words on a whimper and he has to try again. “Let me come.”

“You can, anytime,” Theseus replies and his grin is smug.

Because he still has Percival's hands captive.

“Not without—damn it—” Percival protests, complains, groans all at once.

Every fill of that big cock keeps him teetering on the verge of climax but that itself is teasingly out of his grasp—literally, even—and the fact that Percival can’t do anything about it is frustratingly enjoyable, to be at the mercy of someone he trusts and loves.

At the thought, his body tenses and coils with the added lust burning through him—legs tightening around Theseus's hips, fingers curling for something to hold onto; he wishes it were Theseus's hands.

There’s a stutter in the movements below and another hard lunge that draws a pathetic noise from him. The man presses tight to him and touches their foreheads together, breathes heavily against Percival's mouth. Warmth blooms where they’re joined and it isn’t until something wet slips out and down his ass that Percival realizes what just happened.

“Oh god,” Theseus whimpers and he finally releases Percival to tangle their fingers together.

Percival sees fluttering lashes and the sheen of sweat on Theseus's face, the freckles over the bridge of his nose and rosy tops of the cheeks.

His slowing heart picks up again at the beauty of his lover and he licks his lips. “Did you just...”

As if to shut him up Theseus kisses him, a sensual press of lips, rubbing lightly to leave a tingle on the surface then tasting deeply like he wants to enter Percival all over again.

“Not a word,” Theseus warns after drawing back, seeming vaguely embarrassed by it. “You can’t blame me when I saw you looking like that.”

Percival can’t understand or imagine what he saw; he feels a dirty, sore mess, even more so when Theseus pulls away and his come seeps out, sticking to Percival's legs and the sheets. He has no energy to react beyond a small jerk of the hips (basically numb at this point) when Theseus spreads him and swallows down his still-hard cock. Percival curses and bites on his lip as he grasps the thick auburn curls atop Theseus's head. Held in place while the man licks and sucks expertly knowing exactly how to bring him to the edge once more, it's a litany of helpless cries of pleasure breaking into a drawn-out groan as he finally come down Theseus's throat.

When he looks up blinking tears from his eyes, it’s just in time to see him swallowing.

“That’s disgusting,” Percival says without thinking.

Theseus wipes his mouth and gives him a long look, then grins as he crawls up Percival's body.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he says.

Percival deftly avoids a mischievous attempt for a kiss and with a laugh, the man collapses on top of him (minding his sensitive part), knocking the air out of his lungs briefly. His arms automatically go around a strong, broad back as he’s nuzzled at his throat.

“How long are you staying?” Percival asks after he can properly breathe again.

A thoughtful hum that tickles his neck, then, “Two days? Perhaps three, depending.”

Depending on their work, the job. It’s almost too good to be real sometimes, that they can have each other like this despite what they separately pursue in their own lives.

“Alright,” Percival sighs. “Get off, you’re heavy.”

“In a bit,” Theseus mumbles. “Please.”

Well, that’s fine, he supposes. The weight of Theseus really is quite heavy and it’s getting hot from the shared body heat on top of the discomfit of drying fluids pulling at his skin; but he hasn’t the heart to separate right this moment, either.

He kisses the top of Theseus's head and pulls him a little closer. “Alright,” he says again and smiles contentedly into soft hair.


End file.
